Birds of Wisdom

There is a bird singing outside my window. A Bird. It's so easy to forget, living in a city- you feel as if the few token trees and patches of grass somehow connect you with Nature, give you the illusion that you are still on Earth, and not some man made world of concrete and stone. And yet- I never noticed that the birds were missing until today. Now there is that one damn bird that just will not shut up, will not stop crying a paean to the promise of sunrise. It is unaccountably beautiful, that innocent twittering. It wrenches me away from this place of hard walls and sharp corners, back to the streets of home, where houses nestled into Nature and were cradled in its embrace, rather than the bending and shaping and reforming of it as is done here.

I am back in my bed at home, awakening to the soft hooting of a Mourning Dove that dwells in the cherry tree in the front lawn, and drowsily getting ready for another day. I am watching black birds on the telephone wires chatting amongst themselves as they perch placidly on that cable that connects us so superficially to one another. I am marveling at the red breast of the robin that adorns my dogwood tree, staring into its black eyes and wondering what sort of inane thoughts are running behind them. I am surrounded by stupid birds who seem to know so much more than me; who know that rain is to be enjoyed and not looked at as a nuisance, who know that snow is simply a miracle and not just an excuse to get off of school, and who know that thunderstorms can only scare you if you let them.

I have many things to do. Many places to go and many people to see. But right now, I am just sitting and letting the simple sound of an innocently wise bird wash over me and remind me that there is fresh air to be breathed and a river that sparkles blue in the sun and leaves that rustle gently in the wind. I will sit here and close my eyes and think stupid thoughts.

I'll go back to work in a minute.

Maybe ten minutes.

(I unearthed this from the Vault. Seemed to fit today.)

I can’t deny that something
Inside of me is dead
With beating heart and moving hands
The pain is in my head 

You think you whisper to me
Of things beyond my ken
That something waits beyond the sea
Beyond the reach of men 

But you have gone and ceased to be
The barrier stays intact
I lay with you and feel the truth
That you are dead- in fact.

Light

Last night, oh, last night you were here playing bridge while I read in the corner and I glanced up when you laughed and you were staring at your husband- staring at him with this look on your face and I couldn’t decide if you were the sun because you were glowing so damn brightly, or if you were the moon because it was so obvious that you thought he was the sun and the light in your face was just reflected brilliance, and then I had to look away before I was blinded.

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